


When The People Go Out

by belivaird_st



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, Friendship/Love, Older Woman/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Belinda hangs out with Fleabag.
Relationships: Belinda/Fleabag (Fleabag)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Belinda grimaces over the liquid-eyed, nose twitching guinea pig Fleabag presents her with her arms outstretched. 

“Would you like to hold Hillary?”

“Hillary...?”

“Yes, that’s her name,” Fleabag nods, feeling the short-haired furry animal squirming and clawing around her wrist and fingers.

“All... right...” Belinda carefully takes the guinea pig from her new young friend and watches it sniff around and twitch and blink those tiny black eyes...  
“She needs her nails cut—oh, god, she’s munching on my sleeve... Get her off me... Here...!” the older woman sounds alarmed and fearful as she takes a step forward and dumps the lovely Hillary back onto Fleabag, who has a fulfilling grin on her face. She lifts up the squirming pet and kisses her on the nose before putting her back inside her cage.

“The cafe is mostly based off of her,” she walks back towards the spooked Belinda.

“Really? I couldn’t tell by all the photographs nailed to the walls,” Belinda smirks, rolling up her floral print sleeves. “Do you have some sort of weird obsession with them?”

“Me? No,” Fleabag chuckles, now thinking about her deceased best friend, Boo, who was the truth behind it all. Retreating from the subject, she moves quickly towards the glass pastry counter and pulls out a strawberry cheese danish from the shelf to set it on top of a napkin. She rips a chunk and eats it, licking her lips which she finds Belinda staring at.

“You don’t attract a lot of business here, do you?”

“Chatty Wednesday’s a different story,” Fleabag shrugs. 

“Today _is_ Wednesday.”

“Is it?” Fleabag furrows her brows and then takes another bite of danish before stepping in front of her 12-month guinea pig calendar to stare closely at the date. “Shit, it is!”

“Everyone must’ve gone away to the beach,” Belinda sighs. She gazes around the empty cafe and waits, while Fleabag goes back to her baked goods and picks more at it.

“I burn easily,” Fleabag wrinkles her nose.

“Well, that’s a pity,” Belinda huffs. “Guess I’ll just have to go by myself...” she turns and starts leaving for the door with Fleabag stumbling after her, leaping in front of her to block the exit.

“Please don’t abandon me like everybody else,” she begs.

Belinda snorts, but then a second after she says,

“I suppose we’ll have to pick you up some sunblock on the way there.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Isn’t it lovely?”

Belinda takes a few steps forward barefoot with her arms hugging tight around her, looking ahead at the rolling waves. The wind blows loose pieces of her short hair. She looks cold with the sun hiding partly beneath clouds, but that doesn’t stop her enjoyment. Fleabag carries a corn dog dipped with hot mustard in one hand and chews fried breaded coating with a ripped chunk of hotdog meat. She stands next to Belinda with her Keds half buried in the sand. She peers around to find the beach empty with no umbrellas, no chairs, no children running around or playing in the water.

“Where is everybody?” she asks, mouth full of food.

Still staring out at the golden, peach horizon, Belinda points a finger back over her shoulder, making Fleabag spin around to see rows and rows of cars parked in the beach’s lot. She spots the people sitting inside their vehicles, eating, kissing, scrolling through their phones, yelling at their whiny, screaming kids in their booster seats. It seems that everybody finds the weather too cold to be actually on the beach, touching the sand, letting the wind blow their hair.

“Hmph,” Fleabag goes, half shrugging before taking another bite of her delicious snack.


End file.
